


The Color of Law

by jecooksubether



Series: Tigereans and Weres [9]
Category: Furry (Fandom), Original Work
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Gen, Original Fiction, POV First Person, Shapeshifting, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26386150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jecooksubether/pseuds/jecooksubether
Summary: Wherein the author is... _tested_ by his government, and not in a good way.Trigger warnings: attempted suicide, mentions of murder and mayhem
Series: Tigereans and Weres [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914835





	The Color of Law

**July 12th**

It was about four days after our little field trip out to the range that I learned that the press had learned that I was hanging out with a pair of tigereans. I was handed a paper and tugged into the Ambassador’s office when I came into the shop; While I wasn’t on the front page, I was certainly in the gossip section, along with the requisite crappy cellphone pic that showed the three of us at the range. Ch’Mrr and Sh’Meral gave me some particularly severe looks that stopped after they noticed just how hard I was struggling to not start ranting and raving as I read through the article. Sh’Meral started. “Before you explode, I want you to wait a few more minutes until the Archmage arrives. I can only assume that this is a fabrication, yes?”

I nodded, not trusting me to speak, and reigned in my temper. I shifted down to a partial hybrid and ‘ported a pad of paper and a pen that was on my desk to me, and made notes while I re-read the article. After I felt my temper start rising again, I said ‘screw it’ and shifted to full hybrid. That had the desired calming effect, and finished taking my notes and rebuttals just before the Archmage knocked on the office door.

“So, what we have is an obvious fabrication by the LCA in an attempt to ‘out’ you as a therianthrope and possibly a danger to the community at large. The shooting is true enough; that was likely public information from the P.D., but the rest... supposition. I think a decent court would probably rule it slander... if the LCA didn’t have the judges in their pockets as well.”

I looked at the assembled group. “Any suggestions? Other than digging a hole and hiding, I’m tapped.”

The Archmage looked at me and then at both tigereans. “Well, first of all, the three of you need to accept the fact that you are not exactly what anyone would call ‘low profile’: The two of you-” he pointed a furred finger at Sh’Meral and Ch’Mrr- “will stand out in a crowd. **Any** crowd. And You-” the finger moved to point directly at me- “are going to stand out because of your proximity with these two, and because you are relaxed around them. Sh’Meral; as Ambassador, you have by definition a high profile job, even with the ‘personal assistant’ sham. Trust me-” his eyes narrowed at me- “If I saw through it, you can bet your ass that others will, and a hell of a lot quicker.”

Ch’Mrr said, “There is a measure of truth in the phrase. The role of ‘ambassador’ is just that- a role, or a position. That is why Sh’Meral should only be referred to as Ambassador when she wears the armor and robes. It is a persona that she brings to life that is separate from her normal self. With the robe and armor off, she is free to be herself. So, in a manner of speaking, she is the personal assistant to the persona and personality that is the Lead Ambassador of the Trade Empire.”

Ch’Mrr looked at Sh’Meral, who merely nodded. The Archmage pondered this for a moment. “Hmm. Interesting, but not everyone will accept that as a valid explanation. Some will actively refuse to even listen, but that can’t be helped. Humans tend to be a paranoid lot on the whole, unfortunately.”

I spoke up. “I have known of the separation of personas since the beginning. You now know it too, master.”

He looked at me. “Apprentice, why did you withhold this information from me? Do you like cleaning the labs after I’ve had a noxious experiment go bad on me?”

I smirked. “I was under an oath of honor to not reveal this information. But we are digressing a bit- How are we going to handle these falsehoods and this blatant attempt by my own government to attack me and discredit my own clan members?”

Sh’Meral spoke up. “I have a few ideas, starting with issuing a press release from the Ambassador herself regarding this false story. It must have been written by a xenophobic coward hiding under anonymity, and published by a paper with a known bias to follow certain parties within the government to discredit any individual who wishes to bring this planet out of the dark ages and into a new age of enlightenment and trade with other worlds....”

It was a later that day that the press release was issued to the Associated Press and published on the Tigerean’s public web site. I spent the next day at home putting a couple magical proximity sensors and visual distortion generators all over the property. (cleverly disguised as rocks among the xeriscaping! Genius!) I also started parking my car behind the RV gate to keep it out of sight of vandals. While we had expected a certain amount of attention, both good and bad, we had no idea just how far the LCA would go to try and silence me.

**July 26th, 2010**

It had been five days since the attempted suicide bombing of the ambassador’s entourage in New Mexico. My only saving grace from my actions and use of magic was that the archmage was one of the people that I had saved. I had gone back into my work on the Jeep, getting the controller finished and installed properly. Fortunately, this work could be done in the lab I had set up in the house I was renting, so I was home when the proximity sensors went off and the automation system announced that two humans had come on property, and that both were armed. By the time they were at the door, I had the design console locked and blanked, and had gotten a good look at my visitors, which appeared to be government agents. I sent Tigra a short message and a request for heartbeat pings every ten minutes, and made the usual motions when they knocked.

“Mr. [My real last name]? I am Agent Smith, and this is Agent White. We are from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives. We are here to review your C&R status and collection, as permitted by regulations.” (for the uninformed, C&R stands for Curios and Relics, and it’s a type of federally issued firearms permit in the US.) I nodded, and led them into the living room where I had a table and some chairs already set up from an earlier meeting. I retrieved my book, and dryly noted that they had failed to give me any notice as specified in the same regulations they had quoted me. They apologized, and we spent all of twenty minutes reviewing my records, which were in order. Then things got a little strange as they started asking me about other firearms I might or might not own. I finally put my foot down.

“I hate to become argumentative with you, but unless you have a warrant or some official reason to be asking about the remainder of my firearms, I don’t think it’s any of your business. I’ve co-operated with you as far as my C&R collection is concerned, and as you can see all the paperwork is in order and strictly correct. Now, I’ll be happy to co-operate if you can explain why the government has become interested in my non-C&R collection, which were all legitimately acquired and are kept strictly in compliance with even your most byzantine regulations regarding configuration, US stamped part count, and other administrative nonsense. Otherwise, this meeting is at an end, and I must ask you to leave.”

The two agents looked at each other, shrugged, and left after thanking me for my time. I spent the next five minutes removing the two or three listening devices they had left, kicked on the distortion fields to full power, and made a few calls using the comm unit I had been given. Tigra recommended I install a few extra layers to the defensive systems I had created for the house, and I spent the rest of the day doing just that.

The notice from the ATF and the IRS notice came in the mail two days later- the ATF’s notice said that I was going to have two agents arrive at my house and ask me several questions concerning my C&R collection, and the notice from the IRS was simply that I had been ‘selected’ for a ‘random’ audit of my tax returns. This made me laugh, primarily because I hadn’t done anything but the simplest and most straightforward returns ever since I was stuck doing them myself. To humor them, I sent a copy of what I had back to them with a note asking what time and day would be convenient for them. I then sent a message to Tigra asking if he could check a few things to see why the government had suddenly taken interest in me.

The IRS called back a couple days later, and the gentleman bluntly told me that there was no problem with my records, and that the audit was a mistake. He stated that he would speak longer to me, but that his iguana was hungry and that he needed to go and feed it. Once he hung up, I realized that the last sentence was a code phrase for ‘I know what you are, don’t care, and this department will not get involved in whatever they want.’ I nodded sagely and went back to work on the getting the circuit board diagram built for the controller. I figured that was the end of things, until the ATF tried to execute a ‘no knock’ warrant a week later.

**August 6th, 2010**

The first Friday night of each month was generally referred by me to as “Terran Culture for Aliens” night at my house, which involved Ch’Mrr, Sh’Meral, and usually three or four other tigearans (and sometimes additional human guests camping out in my living room and watching movies, listening to audio, or holding discussion on other subjects regarding how people on this chunk of rock ‘scurried about our short, pointless lives’, to quote an alien from the movies. Tonight, however, it was just Sh’Meral, Ch’Mrr, Tigra, and myself. The lesson was all about healing magic as I needed some additional education on the subject. I was just about to prepare a channel of energy to a jar full of lake water that was teeming with one-celled life when the freshly augmented automation system pinged an alert.

I called up the external view on a monitor and found that there were 6 or seven people in black armor and outfits getting lined up outside both doors. I looked at Tigra and traded glances. It looked like a typical stack for a no-knock warrant, and they didn’t **do** ‘polite’. Ch’Mrr immediately picked up on my sudden tension, and I heard one of the small outdoor speakers click to life with Ch’Mrr’s voice; tinny, loud, and with zero emotion whatsoever.

“Before you damage this house, you need to have a diplomatic liaison present- the Tigearean ambassador is inside and we do not want an incident to occur, which our government would regret. We are perfectly willing to discuss your reason for coming here peacefully- there is no need for violence.”

I heard at least two very startled cries from the teams outside, and Ch’Mrr flung the normally closed front door open to reveal that the screen door had already been propped open. Sh’Meral was looking at them, and said, “Please relax. Once your liaison arrives, we can discuss the issue that brought you here and we all can move on with our evening. An associate of ours will provide water, if requested- We realize it is hot outside and in those outfits.”

I had been ‘talking’ to Tigra via a telepathic link, and I nodded as Sh’Meral finished. Tigra took a few steps to the door, and asked to see the warrant in question while we all were waiting, as he was my legal consul. He spent a few minutes looking over it, and I slowly nodded as he fed me the text of the warrant over the link. I mentally told him that we could probably honor the request as long as the lab wasn’t touched, and he agreed. Fortunately, the liaison rolled up just as we were about to say something, so it was a moot point. It was about five minutes later that we allowed the feds in, and I was kind enough to tell them exactly where the cabinet was, and to warn them to not enter the room marked “LAB” as I had several experiments running that were under an NDA.

Tigra went into the back of the house to act as a witness, as the two agents leading the raid insisted that I stay in the main room. Ch’Mrr offered them bottled water from the suburban the three had driven over in, but they refused. He did go into the south room and fetched a couple cans of soda from the fridge for myself and Sh’Meral, and as he came back out I heard Tigra say in a flat voice, “I would not open that door, sir-”

As he said this, I heard the door pop open. The lights in the house all dimmed, I heard the big diesel generator in the backyard cough and roar into life and rev right up to full power, and the house’s automation system chimed loudly twice. “CRITICAL: control connection to prototype reactor severed. Estimating primary containment failure in 5 minutes.” Ch’Mrr’s face visibly paled as he heard me start reciting the litany of curses in the handful of languages I knew, and I started immediately toward the lab door. I was met in the hallway by Tigra, who was in the process of hauling one of the agents out of the lab room. He nodded as I passed him, flew into the lab room and slammed the door shut.

I was fortunate enough that Tigra was able to slap a heavy duty distortion field on the outer side of the door, which let me run through the mnemonic at full speed and volume to restore the gate to the lab’s real location some two miles under the Pacific Ocean. I started sucking down power from the plant in the backyard, which allowed the gate to flare to life a good five seconds faster than the last time I had to ditch it. As the gate flared open, the laser communicator that serves as the automation system’s link to the lab also flared back into life. The automation system had been sounding off every 30 seconds, and as the communication was re-established, I found that the system had at least acted as I had hoped and shut down instead of losing containment. Unfortunately, this also meant that the experiment was utterly ruined and that I had lost about a week’s worth of work and almost a month’s worth of progress.

As I shut the door to the lab and wizard-locked it, I headed back out into the main room where the ATF agents were examining the WASR-10 that the warrant was the subject of. Tigra noted as he handed the warrant to me that I was completely devoid of emotion, and as I spoke my voice was as cold as liquid helium, and flatter than a calibration table. “It is in the same condition as it was when I bought it, only cleaner. If I recall the appropriate section of law correctly, it is in a legal configuration, even with a foreign sourced magazine loaded in it. I _do_ try to make sure I stay in compliance with all the byzantine rules your agency cooks up to try and catch people.”

They both looked supremely annoyed at me as I continued, reading from the warrant. “It would seem that this particular firearm is the only thing that the warrant addresses, and as you have already looked over the remainder of my C&R collection, I think your business is done here, unless you wish to discuss compensation for the months’ worth of research you have cost my employer here from opening a door that we asked your people to not open and triggering an automated shutdown of a high energy experiment.”

Sh’Meral looked at me and asked what happened and my voice warmed up a bit. “Well, fortunately for everyone on the planet, the reactor didn’t lose containment, but just shut down like the failsafes designed it to do. The plant out back is going to keep running until I flip the house back to grid power or until I get the plant back online, which will take an hour of uninterrupted time. Fortunately, Ol’ grunty back there is a bit over spec for what we loaded on it.”

Agent Smith interrupted us and said in a rather hasty manner, “Well, everything appears in order. We do apologize for taking your time in this matter, and we’ll be going now.”

Sh’Meral looked at the assembled agents, and said “I want to speak with the Sergeant there privately for a few minutes. I believe he was the one responsible, yes?”

One of the agents clad in battle-rattle looked sheepish, and hung back as the rest of the agents left after getting the nod from Smith. As soon as the other agents cleared the door, a distortion field snapped into place, and Tigra laid into him. “So ‘Sergeant’ Babel of the LCA- You’ve not only failed in taking in another one of my students, but also annoyed the Ambassador of another world, AND set back your own planet’s advance again. What part of “Leave us alone” was not understood by your group from myself, The Green Society, or of The Ambassador?”

He stammered for a bit. “I’m just trying to enforce the laws as they were written, that’s all.” Ch’Mrr started laughing, a loud roaring chuff that would have gotten the attention of the entire block had it gotten past the distortion field. “Your blind zealotry to your organization is noted, human. Open your eyes and know this: Ti’Grr, as with all the other demi-humans in our employ, are under the protection of both the Empire, and of Clan Sn’nrth, of which I am Eldest. Cross me or my clan at the cost of your life. {Do I make myself CRYSTAL CLEAR?!?! }” The last part had also been hammered into his mind as Ch’Mrr put a not-insignificant amount of power into a telepathic broadcast to the poor human.

Sargent Babel did what pretty much anyone else confronted by an angry, 8 foot tall, quarter ton sentient carnivore would do- he pissed himself, turned around, and high-tailed it out of my house. As the group was leaving, I went back into the lab and spent the twenty minutes that restarting the reactor demanded. I made sure it was purring along fine, came back into the house, and we resumed the class that we had in progress.

*****

After that, I generally didn’t have much trouble with people trying to invade the house. I had put up large-ish “NO SOLICITING” signs on both front-facing doors, and as I tended to ‘work from home’, I was well prepared for those that decided to disregard those signs. Being able to see people as they walked up to the doors was fun and exciting as well, especially after I learned a handful of fairly entertaining spells from the Archmage and integrated them into the defenses. Approaching my house with the intention to deface it or assault me was met with the smell of approaching death as you got closer, followed by another distortion field surrounding the house itself that effectively made you disappear. After that, it was entirely up to you if you ended up naked in a field 30 miles north of the city, or naked 30 miles north and 1 mile above ground. After the second incident, I put a smaller sign up under the larger ones that said simply “Do not meddle in the affairs of a Mage, for they are subtle and quick to anger.”

Between the house’s defenses and coupled with the Archmage teaching me how to create a gate, the only time i had to really go out in public was for food shopping or for accompanying Sh’Meral and Ch’Mrr on either a field trip, or in an official capacity with the two in their ‘Ambassador’ persona as an advisor. I generally carried openly when on these trips- between the holstered firearm and the crest of the Tigerean Empire with me (either on my belt like a badge or as part of the official suit I had made for me), I was largely left the hell alone.

**August 10th, 2010**

The remainder of the weekend had progressed rather painfully, but I had learned the hard way how to properly heal both myself and those around me if the need arose. I managed to spend Monday getting the controller built, and then working on creating the processor core of the staff I would use as a focus. My mood was only slightly dampened by the arrival of the certified letter from the landlord in regards to the lease- Apparently, he said that he would allow the lease to come to full term, but I needed to be out at the end of October. Tuesday was a bit somber as I pulled into the front lot of the embassy. As I unloaded the staff, the handcart, and a couple boxes containing the controller and the staff’s core, I was treated to a somewhat amusing sight. Sh’Meral had warned me that they would be hiring a receptionist, and the area around the double doors of the embassy had about 30 people, all norms. I grunted a bit as I heaved the handcart up on its wheels, slung the backpack around, and made my way to the door with my walking staff in the remaining free hand. Meeting the two guards at the front door, I gave a short bow and the customary greeting to Na’Menth and Na’Meel, who opened the doors for me. The reception area inside was packed. I had been in my semi-default of 80/20 norm/kitty mix, and pulsed a quick true sight as I walked in. Of the 20 people crowded in the reception area, all but two were norms. The two non-norms consisted of what appeared to be a female in her mid 30’s of Native American descent, and a male of around 18-20 years that looked like a bored guard or something. Although both appeared human, the true sight revealed both to be lycanthropes.

Unfortunately for me, they both instantly noticed the pulse of magic, and looked intently directly at me. Ch’Mrr had opened the door to the hallway, noticed me, nodded, and called the next person back for the interview. As I started to the door the male approached me. “Excuse me, but we must speak with you privately for a moment.” As he said this, he flashed into my mind an image of a green celtic cross. I sighed, and nodded. As I walked to the door leading to one of the small offices, the female also got up and followed us. I entered the room, parked the crap I was lugging around in a corner, pulled out chairs for the two and sat in a third.

The male’s question was pretty straightforward and direct, at least. “Are you associated with the LCA, and if so, what are your orders?”

The tone in his voice indicated that violence would ensue if I gave an answer he didn’t like. My sudden burst into laughter didn’t improve his mood. I quickly composed myself, and answered. “I want nothing to do with the LCA- they’ve cost me a considerable amount of stress and money. If anything, I would see the LCA taken down a few notches. Now it is my turn. I have two questions for both of you- What does the Green Society want of this apprentice mage, and why was it necessary to keep me from dropping my work off at my desk first?”

The female went to speak up, but Ch’Mrr came into the room at that moment, and asked them what they were doing in here with his security liaison. He turned to me and told me to collect my stuff, drop them at my desk, and relieve the two on the front door. I bowed, threw a follow me spell on the handcart, the laptop bag, grabbed the staff, and made my way to the shop area.

I had been at the front door for a couple hours after telling the Na’Meel and Na’Menth to go inside and talk to Ch’Mrr. Fortunately, the interview process had been moving at a steady pace, with a stream of people coming out, and people going in. The crowd outside was down to the last three, when the male I had been talking to inside came out and talked to me before walking away. “I apologise for my actions earlier- it was uncalled for. I don’t think we will cross paths again, but I would ask that you not based your opinion of the Society on the actions of one rash and young male.”

He bowed his head low, in what I could only parse as a submission ritual. I put on a non-threatening smile. “No worries- I was once young and brash myself. I miss those days sometimes. May your road be green and your troubles few.” His eyes brightened a bit as I recited the farewell that the Order used when talking to Society members.

This bright spot unfortunately turned black as he turned the corner and vanished from sight- the last one in line marched up to the door, and even before he was within range I knew something bad was about to happen. I ‘pathed [a little help from inside please?] to Ch’Mrr as the man pulled a small box with a button on it. I barely had the time to grab the energy to throw a barrier shield around him before he triggered the 20 pounds of RDX he had wrapped around his torso.

When we searched and disarmed the car the bomber had driven to the embassy, it had several notes from the LCA referencing a certain female lycanthrope that had not only been hired, but had been adopted informally by the guards I had relieved.

**August 13th, 2010**

The rest of the week had been... interesting, in the hoary old chinese sense of the term.* After the Scottsdale police had been dealt with (again), the feds (BATFE for the explosives, FBI as it was multi-state, the LCA for obvious reasons, DHS for the same reason as the FBI, and the state department as it was technically on foreign property) came in and proceeded to get read the riot act by Ch’Mrr, Tigra, and an older gentleman with a british accent. After the feds left he proceeded to slow-roast the LCA with probably the most exquisite collection of curses, insults, and profanity that I had ever heard. It went on for a full 10 minutes, and he never repeated himself once.

It was fortunate that I was left alone for the rest of the day to finish the staff, although Sh’Meral and Ch’Mrr insisted on making sure I got home safely and spent the night there with me watching movies.

I had hoped that the rest of the week would be peaceful; that was not to be. One of the crazier religious cults tried blowing the embassy up two days later; fortunately, I had my staff ready and running by that time, and the cultist never had the chance to hit the detonator before Ch’Mrr destroyed his mind finding out who was responsible and I teleported the body to a point two miles above a spot in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

Friday night was spent largely in solitude, which in hindsight was not the best idea in the world. Ch’Mrr and Sh’Meral had not accompanied me home that night citing a meeting onboard the ship with T’Grlf and communicating to Homeworld what had happened, which was ok, but as I got home and the full realization of the events of the past two weeks sank in, I started thinking, and drinking as my emotions started running wild. After most of the alcohol in the house was gone**, what was left of me staggered to bed, dropped to full morph, and climbed in.

**Saturday, August 14th 2010**

I was in a dream, and I had been to this place before. I had spent an unknown amount of time sitting at the end of a catwalk over a giant, black, bottomless hole. Just sitting, and staring into the abyss, and trying to decide if it was worth my while to find the bottom. Previous times, however, I had managed to turn around and walk away, back to sanity, to reality. This time, however, was uncertain.

The Abyss was looking back at me. In the past five weeks, I had been forced to defend myself five times, danced with the devil wearing the color of law, and had been notified that I was to look for new housing at the end of the next month when the lease expired. Sure, the positives outweighed these setbacks- I could probably appeal to Tigra or the tigereans for assistance with getting housing. The feds had already apologized after the Ambassador and the archmage pointed out the manipulation that was occurring by the rogue agency, and all of the instances of defense were justified, and even deemed praiseworthy by those that I had spared an unpleasant ending. But my mind was stubborn, and insisted.

I was standing at the very edge with one foot raised to step off when I heard a pissed off female voice behind me scream “Not on my watch, human!” and before I could do anything else I felt a furry paw grab the scruff of my neck and tug violently, which woke me up the rest of the way. I was lying on my left side on the bed, in full morph. The pain to every input was... incredible. A normal human hangover had been described to me invariably as hypersensitivity to sound, light, and motion; this was multiplied by a factor of about ten.

After a bit of groaning and muttering, the hand let go of my scruff. I sensed movement about in the bed, ending with something next to my muzzle and something over my head. I was breathing through my mouth, but my nose picked up a very strong and familiar musty smell. Sh’Meral was still connected mentally, and the image inside my mind had changed to the usual swirl of color and pattern. As I felt another tug at the scruff of my neck, her voice told me to open my eyes, and as I cracked open my right eye, I got a sight of... the source of the musty smell, close up and very, very personal. I heard her giggling even as my ears turned red from the blush.

Before I got a chance to do anything, a icy jet of something hit the scruff of my neck and I heard a slight hissing noise. The pain I had been feeling almost immediately started to fade, along with the hypersensitivity. She picked up on my emotions, and chuckled a bit. {And still you have a problem with body modesty- I hope we can fix that soon.} I ‘pathed [Turnabout’s fair play], slowly pulled in a breath of air, and blew out right at her, causing her to jump and _yerp!_ in surprise. I slowly looked up and around, and noticed that something was a bit different with her. She was still picking up on my thoughts and explained.

“In addition to my abilities as both a healer and user of some other magic, I can also adjust my size- it’s not common, and very few people know about it. I can go a small amount smaller than this, or slightly taller than Ch’Mrr. The height you normally see me at is my actual size. Like your partial form shifting, it takes a certain amount of energy to maintain, and I have a time limit on it.”

It took me a minute or three to chew on that. While I was distracted, she moved off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door with a quiet click. I sighed, and finished waking up. She came out from the bathroom just as I tried to shift from full-morph to something bipedal and failed. She listened to the string of profanity that issued from my mouth and my mind, until I noticed that she was getting more and more amused. [ _Well, what_ _’s so fucking funny?!?!_ ] At this, she completely lost it, and sat down in the beat up chair I had moved into the room recently. After she calmed down, she answered.

“The medication I gave you is normally used for pain relief, as you know. However, it seems that the other side affect that it incurs to us also happens to you- the ability to use magic of any kind is inhibited until it wears off, which if my guess is correct will be in about four hours. So you are stuck like that for the duration, unfortunately. So, I think you had something else to say to me?”

I nodded as I motioned for to climb back into the bed. Once done, I managed to bury my head in the fur around her neck as I gave her a hug. [ _I do have something else to say- Several things, actually. The first is also the foremost- I want to thank you for saving me from doing something that, in hindsight, I would have regretted. Secondly, I want to apologize for the fact that you had to save me. And finally, I want to tell you that I love you with all my heart, all my soul, and every fiber of my being, and that I will never, ever do something that profoundly stupid ever again._ ]

Her grip on me tightened as much as mine as she replied.{I have seen the abyss myself, love. The abyss has seen me. I have seen what happens to people who fall into its trap, into its gaze. A long time ago, I did nothing to stop someone I cared for from falling into the abyss, thinking that it was what she wanted. It took her mind, and in turn, her body as well. I vowed to myself that I would never let that happen ever again to someone I cared for. In return for the apology, I will not alert Tigra what has occurred- it is none of his business, for which I’m sure you will be thankful for.} I gently nodded. {Now, Ch’Mrr should be here shortly, we need to take care of something before he arrives.}

“It is too late for that, Ambassador. But I understand as well.” His voice came from the hallway, and he entered the room and climbed into the bed as well, which creaked dangerously under our combined weight. He put his hand on my head behind the ear, and his mind connected with ours. {Ti’Grr, I need to understand why you tried to do what you did before I will accept your apology, and let you out of my sight. I too have been where you were, and unlike Sh’Meral, I have gone to the abyss and back.}

I was given an image of Ch’Mrr as seen from a shattered mirror, with several long, deep slashes on his body where the armor plate junctions were at, blood running freely from them. His hand, and Sh’meral, held me firmly as I recoiled in horror. {Three months after my clan was destroyed, I had lost all hope, and tried to join my dead clan members. Sh’Meral arrived before I had lost too much blood and saved me. In return for this, I volunteered to be bonded as her bodyguard and her guardian. This uplift is my clan’s last chance to regain the honor it once held, and I must see it through.} Their collective grip on me lessened as he finished. {Now, tell me what caused you to think that throwing your mind into the abyss would simplify or solve the problems you face from your government?}

It took a good 20 minutes to explain the mindset I had worked myself into, and in the end I found that I really did not have any good justification for what I had done. He accepted it, though. {I know that the logical and rational part of your mind cannot justify why you thought it was a good idea. Rationality is the first thing that is lost when one starts down the spiraling path to darkness. The fact that you had enough alcohol in you to kill a normal human of your stature and metabolism is also a factor; alcohol’s effects are to loosen one’s control and will, yes? So, while you are in the bathroom taking care of business, I will be in the kitchen preparing breakfast for the three of us, and disposing of the remainder of the drink you have. Allow me to do this, and I will consider your apology to Sh’Meral as accepted, yes?} I nodded, and they let me up to stagger into the bathroom.

Sh’Meral came in about ten minutes later after I finished using the room for its usual business and puking my guts out, and helped me get cleaned up. Ch’Mrr had all the bottles of booze except for the ‘special’ bottle of rum sitting empty in a row on the counter. “I left the one partial bottle of rum as you didn’t touch it at all, despite cleaning out almost everything else. Why didn’t you do anything with this one?”

I nodded thankfully. “It was a gift from a friend of mine that makes cordials and other booze, and that was a ‘one-off’ batch that he had made. If it’s required of me, we can pour it out as well, but I consider my lesson well and truly learned- I will never, ever drink like that ever again.”

Ch’Mrr nodded. “I will trust you in this. And now, for some breakfast, yes?”

* There’s no actual proof that anyone in china ever said it, as it’s been attributed by many sources over the decades.

** two full bottles of good rum, a small bottle of absolut, a third of a large bottle of cheap rum, several assorted shots of various liquors, and about 64 oz. worth of various beers.


End file.
